Dudley."
"Where is Johnson now," asked the colonel.
"He's hidin' in an old log cabin down by the swamp back of Mink Run.
He sleeps in the daytime, and goes out at night to get food and watch
for white men from Mr. Fetters's place."
"Does his wife know where he is?"
"No, sir; he ain't never let her know."
"By the way, Taylor," asked the colonel, "how do _you_ know all this?"
"Well, sir," replied the teacher, with something which, in an
uneducated Negro would have been a very pronounced chuckle, "there's
mighty little goin' on roun' here that I _don't_ find out, sooner or
later."
"Taylor," said the colonel, rising to terminate the interview, "you
have rendered a public service, have proved yourself a good citizen,
and have relieved Mr. Dudley of serious embarrassment. I will see that
steps are taken to apprehend Johnson, and will keep your participation
in the matter secret, since you think it would hurt your influence
with your people. And I promise you faithfully that every effort shall
be made to see that Johnson has a fair trial and no more than a just
punishment."
He gave the Negro his hand.
"Thank you, sir, thank you, sir," replied the teacher, returning the
colonel's clasp. "If there were more white men like you, the coloured
folks would have no more trouble."
The colonel let Taylor out, and watched him as he looked cautiously up
and down the street to see that he was not observed. That coloured
folks, or any other kind, should ever cease to have trouble, was a
vain imagining.
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